


Tentative

by silhouette (thiefless)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Future Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefless/pseuds/silhouette
Summary: Terrific. This was Peter's first experience in a public Stark Industries black tie event, and he was already fucking it up.Tony invites Peter to a charity gala. There may or may not be a feelings-induced blow job in it for him.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 137





	Tentative

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys. This has sitting in my notes app for the better part of a year, and I finally decided to publish it. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! :)

Terrific. This was Peter's first experience in a public Stark Industries black tie event, and he was already fucking it up. _Parker Luck_ , and all that. Keeping his spidey secret paled in comparison. Black tie events were definitely worthy of consideration on top-tier level Spider-Man villains. 

Peter had been trying to catch Tony's eye all evening, pulling out all the stops to get the man to reconsider his stance on exercising constraint and maintaining decorum for the duration of the evening. Which, to Peter, was ridiculous – Tony was known far and wide for his sexual proclivities, and a great many of them involved an element of public indecency. 

Unfortunately, his efforts were infuriatingly in vain. Okay fine, Peter could appreciate that. Tony Stark was a busy man, juggling a thousand thoughts all at once. Peter was just one such piece, and he liked to think he was a big piece – but a piece nonetheless. 

Anyway. Point was: Tony was a busy man, and Peter was undeniably hot for authority. Black tie events were not in Peter's repertoire for this very reason, and he knew – it would be a long time before he could chase relief. 

At least, he _did_ know that. Until: Tony caught Peter's gaze, reading the need clear on his face, closed up his speech with a silver tongue that put Loki to shame, and evasively concluded his graceful speech to a round of applause, before commandeering Peter's attention firmly _away_. 

Tony prowled the halls, Peter hot on his heels. He studied Tony's countenance as they paced to an unknown destination, observed the sharp lines of his shoulders and the tension in his arms. Arousal pooled in his lower abdomen, mouth watering in anticipation. 

Without a spoken utterance littering the atmosphere, Tony opened the door to the public bathroom, ushering him in, and then locking the door behind them with nothing but a careless flick of the wrist. For half a millisecond, Peter was grateful for the empty stalls – and then his brain short-circuited and– and– and–

–and then Tony was crouching on the cool tile, staring up at him.

“What do I– Should I be doing– Do you need me to–” Peter babbled incoherent questions, randomly stringing together unintelligible syllables. In his defence, _Tony Stark_ had just sunk to his knees before him and was currently staring at him like he was the eighth natural wonder in the world.

Exactly, so. It was no mere coincidence that Peter's brain had chosen this moment to short-circuit. 

“You? Nothing.” Tony grinned wickedly, brown eyes burning with flaming intensity. “Just stand there and look at me like that. Attaboy. Oh, and keep calling me Mr. Stark.”

Peter complied with a shaky breath that quickly morphed into an embarrassing moan as soon as Tony put his mouth to good use, unzipping Peter's pants and pulling him free in one swift motion. Before long, Peter was a quivering mess whose vocabulary consisted of high-pitched moans: _please, sir, please_ and _oh my god, Mr. Stark._

Tony chose then to look up at Peter's unguarded face, peering up at him through long, dark eyelashes. Tony's pupils were blown wide, hungry and dark – enough to make Peter lose his mind. But underneath the haze of lust there was a breath-taking display of raw reverence; of stark adoration and fondness and _something_ that Peter didn't have time to examine before he was coming down Tony's throat harder than he ever had before. 

Tony released Peter with a wet _pop_ , knees cracking, loud on his senses, as he stood up. Peter hastily did up his crumpled pants, desperate to return the favour. He wasn't sure what he did right to suddenly get sucked off while business investors were literally not twenty feet away, but whatever it was, he wanted to do it again.

“God, Pete, you taste fucking incredible.”

Peter smiled in a daze at the praise, feeling as though his soul had ascended to cloud nine and he was loathe to stop it. His breath hitched when Tony hooked his fingers into the loopholes of Peter's pants, pulling them flush together.

“Taste yourself,” Tony growled into Peter's ear, hot and low, before pressing his mouth against Peter's. And Peter, well, he was only too willing to comply, inviting Tony to conquer his mouth with no resistance.

In contrast to Tony's possessive command, the kiss they divulged in then was wrought with such tenderness, such love, though Peter steadfastly refused to expand on _that_ while their relationship was still a fragile thing. This kiss held none of the urgency, none of the lust that had befallen their usual sexcapades. It was long and deep and utterly sinful – and yet completely innocent at the same time.

Peter groaned as he devoured his own salty tang, thick in Tony's mouth – a mouth that Peter had just stained white. He couldn't back his whimper at just how complimentary their shared tastes were. At how well they meshed together, even like this. Especially like this.

The mix of Peter and Tony. Peter felt he could get drunk off that alone. 

Peter whispered Tony's name against his lips, and delighted in the sensation of Tony swallowing his own name from Peter's mouth. 

As Tony nipped and sucked love bites into the soft of Peter's neck, just above the collar of his tux, hovering around his raging pulse point. Peter would go back out there and display Tony's mark proudly; wear it as a medal of ownership: _The Property of Tony Stark. Hands off!_

Fuck, Peter liked the sound of that.

“I honestly meant to keep away from you tonight,” Tony gasped against the side of his neck. “Fuck. You're irresistible.”

Unbidden, an embarrassing noise tore through his throat.

Tony smirked at the pleasured flush on Peter's face as he drew back. “Good, right? We go well together.” And then whispered, as though the declaration was wrenched from Tony's lips without warning, “You're so beautiful.”

Tony's hair was gloriously mussed from Peter's fingers, but he wore it well. No surprises there. Tony wore everything well; could model anything and label it a fashion. Peter, on the other hand, with his beetroot face, erratic breathing and dopey limbs was out for the count. It wasn't fair. It had to be a crime how good Tony looked, wearing the evidence of their proclivities like his own personal suit of armour. 

Tony turned as if to leave, arm wrapped invitingly around Peter, but Peter blurted out, “Wait. I mean, I haven't, uh, you haven't–”

Tony chuckled. “You don't need to. Seeing you like this... it's more than enough for me. Far more than I deserve.”

Peter's signature goofy smile made its daily appearance as his blissed-out endorphins receded momentarily to register Tony's words, although it was tinged with melancholy. Every time, it amazed him – how little Tony thought of himself. And saddened him, immeasurably.

“Don't,” muttered Peter, rough, as though he had been the one on his knees. He cleared his throat and tried again, rejecting a corny, cheesy, mawkish sentiment because he wanted this to be perfect: “Don't ever think you are less than me. You're the love of my life, Tony, and I love you.”

Um.

Remember when Peter said he _didn't_ want that to come out all garbled and mawkish?

So...yeah.

What The Fuck™ did he just say? 

Peter felt his cheeks burn, determined to spit out a retraction before his words did further damage to their tentative relationship. “I'm sorry,” he apologised because it felt like he should. Just because Peter wanted them to last forever, as corny as that sounded – and it was, for the record, incredibly corny, and if he had a single coherent thought, he would take it back – that did not mean that Tony was under any obligation to indulge him.

“Kid, don't apologise. You’re the only thing I want, you get that, right? And I'll keep you for as long as you'll have me.”

Peter ducked his head shyly before hesitantly meeting Tony's gaze. “How does forever sound to you?”

Tony gave the softest of smiles to Peter then as he grasped Peter's hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a kiss so tender and so dainty to his knuckles that it took all of Peter's enhanced strength not to topple to the ground there and then. 

“Okay,” he whispered. His eyes were unbearably naked, so unguarded and so true. It felt nothing short of a privilege to Peter; to wield such power over a man like Tony. It made him feel giddy just thinking about it.

Peter smiled, the future painted on his face, and murmured a sublime, “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
